Eternal
by Michou7
Summary: At 7:00 PM, the doctor pronounced his death. But Reid remained eternal, watching over his friend and helping them catch the final unsub that he couldn't before he could move forward
1. Chapter 1

Please note:  
I know that the idea sounds like a rip-off of The Lovely Bones (Alice Sebold), but just let me tell you: I am horrible at coming up with ideas! I am, however, in love with the idea of a beloved character being caught in the "in between" and witnessing life as it happens after their death. I hope that I can borrow this idea from Sebold (who is an absolutely genius) and spin it in a way that all you readers will love

Disclaimer: I don't own this show, the characters associated with this show. I based the idea of The Lovely Bones

**Eternal**

Song of this chapter: Possibility – Lykke Li

Chapter 1 - Mirror

The thing Reid remembered most about dying was the feeling of losing everything: the breaths from his lung, the feelings of his body, and-tragically of all-the hopes of being found by his team. There were other things he remembered as well, like the burning pain radiating from the gunshot wound in his stomach, the stomach acid seeping into his lungs, choking him and poisoning him slowly. He remembered what his emotions the moment leading up to his death. He was angry at himself for getting the profile completely wrong. He was panicking because his teams were on their way to another location at the other side of town chasing _the wrong guy_ while he was dying.

But it didn't matter what he was feeling or what he was thinking because as his time drew to an end, everything began to blur into a vivid dimension where reality blended in with dreams. He felt a part of him disappearing, but along with it, another part of him was propagating and seeping into the heavens.

At first, he didn't even realize that he was dead. He floated for awhile, for how long he did not know. The air around him felt cool and cleansing against his hot skins. Every time he opened his eyes, he saw blinding white light that forced his eyes shut again. He should keep his eyes close, his instinct told him, when the time comes, he would be allowed to open them again. He could smell jasmine lingering in the air; it reminded him of his childhood: when his mom was well enough to wash her hair, she was use jasmine-scented shampoo. Eventually, he associated that scent with his mom's brief periods of sanity. It was his favourite smell in the world, even now.

Eventually, he felt something solid beneath his feet again. With his eyes still closed, he began assessing his situation. He was sitting on some sort of office chair with his back resting again it. He could swivel around if he moved his feet. The jasmine scent was replaced by the smell of coffee bean. The room was quiet, so much so that it sent a chill up his spine.

Slowly but surely, Reid opened his eyes. He breathed a sign of relief when he realized that the white light was gone and he could see clearly where he was now. But once he realized where he was, he couldn't help but gasp in shock.

He was here. He was at the BAU office, sitting at his desk. This was his life for the past seven years

The regularly bustling office was empty. He glanced down at his desk. The usual messy surface was clean. His computer monitor was always pasted with millions of little sticky notes to remind him of everything he needed to do, but now it was clean and bare. His desk was usually swamped with hundreds of brown folders filled with horrendous BAU cases, there were none now. He opened his top desk drawer and find pens and pencils, papers, sticky notes, paper clips, and various stationeries neatly arranged inside. He smiled when he imagined what Garcia would have told him if she saw how clean his space was.

_Garcia_

His mind grasped around that name: _Penelope Garcia_. Then, almost instantly, several names emerged from the shadow of his mind

_Emily Prentiss_

He shifted his gaze to the desk next to him: Emily Prentiss' desk. Unlike his clear desk, hers was swamped with BAU files, albeit they were arranged into two neat piles: one requiring her attention and one she successfully looked through.

_Aaron Hotchner_

He ran up the short flight of stairs leading to the superior's office. Aaron Hotchner wasn't there, but his desk was also filled with paperwork and cases. Jack Hotcher's picture beamed up at him once he got to his desk.

_David Rossi_

He crossed the short distance separating Rossi's office from Hotch's. The office was empty but it retained its usual OCD-like neatness. There was not a pen out of place, they were arranged according to colour on Rossi's desk. His books were neatly stacked in the bookcase opposite his desk, organized by the author's last name and date of publications.

_Jennifer Jareau _

He burst into her office. Her office was how it always was, the piles of unsolved murder cases reaching ceiling height. But JJ was missing

_Derek Morgan_

He walked down the BAU hallway towards Morgan's new office. He opened the door and peeked inside. Once again, Reid was greeted by an empty room, but his desk was exactly the same as it was before they left for the case. He was in the middle of filling in some paperwork when he was called to the conference room and the form was still there, half-filled.

There was one last person left. Reid ran towards Garcia's room. She was there, she has to be: she was always in her office. He opened the door and was greeted with blinking computer screen. Garcia's toys and paraphernalia decorated her wide desk. However, her chair was empty.

_What is going on? _He wondered. He wracked his brain to try and remember what was going on the moments leading up to his awakening in the BAU office. Images began to form in his mind: the barrel of a gun, the unsub's sneer, the sight of him pulling the trigger. He remembered hearing the sound of the gun as the bullet left it and bury itself into Reid's body. Then the worst sound of all: it was the unsub's rough voice: _they'll never find you_, and the sound of a door slamming shut, leaving Reid all alone, bleeding and dying.

_Am I dead?_

Reid ran out of Garcia's office. He ran and ran while he felt his emotions gripping him. It was strange how magnified his feelings were now. He couldn't focus on anything but his fear, his disappointment, his sadness, and his anger.

He ran until he was out of the FBI building. But instead of standing on the cemented sidewalks of Quantico, Virginia, he was now in the middle of some unknown park. He looked around to see if he would recognize the location. He spotted a chess table somewhere away from him. Other than that, there was nothing else: no swing sets, no slides, no basketball court, no baseball diamond. In the distance, he could see one lone park bench. He walked towards it, struggling to keep his pace even and his mind calm. As he approached the seat, he realized that there was also a gazebo located beside the bench.

He gasped. He recognized where this was now.

It was the park he used to go to as a kid. When his mom's episodes were bad enough to scare him, Reid used to run to the park and hide in that very gazebo. He would duck under and imagine what it would be like if the gazebo would launch into space and he could escape his dysfunctional life. But he knew it was impossible, gazebos didn't spontaneously developed rocket packs and launched itself into space. The amount of fuel power wouldn't just materialize out of nowhere. You couldn't create matter. Besides, once he reached space, he wouldn't be able to breathe because he didn't have source of oxygen.

_Am I dreaming or am I actually dead?_

He sat down on the park bench and stared straight ahead. He blinked in confusion at what he saw: instead of a never-ending sea of green grass like he had expected, there was a mirror in front of him. His reflection stared back at him; his face was the familiar expression that he had when he was thinking hard. He reached out and touched the glass and felt the cool surface of the mirror.

"Are you dead?" he asked his reflection, then paused as if he expected it to answer him. He withdrew his hands and rested them on his lap, his long fingers intertwining each other.

"Am _I_ dead?" he repeated the question in a whisper.

The mirror seemed to answer him. His reflection soften and melted away to form a whirlpool of colour. Moments later, the colour separated to form a fuzzy image. Then, as if the auto-focus on a camera was taking effect, the reflection sharpened. Reid felt like the floor had disappeared beneath him as he stared at the mirror

It was him. It was Dr. Spencer Reid, except he wasn't sitting on a park bench staring at a mirror. Dr. Reid was lying on a surgery table while the doctor, leading an army of nurses struggles to bring him back to life. The doctor pressed a defibrillator to his chest, jostling his body. As it happened, he felt himself being hoisted from the bench, ripped through an unknown dimension, and reunited with his body once again. But it only lasted a second, before he was escaping back to where he was before. It happened quite a few times, he felt like he was a baseball being thrown back and forth between the pitcher and the catcher. No, it was more like a fishing game between the doctor and the inevitable. The doctor was pulling and pulling on the rod but it was useless, the catch was too big. But the doctor kept trying with sweat beading down his forehead. His actions becoming more erratic and desperate as time passed by

Whenever Reid could, he saw his teams through the mirror anxiously anticipating the doctor's return in the waiting room. Morgan was pacing the room angrily with his cell phone pressed to his ears. Garcia was on the other side of the receiver, crying and begging for him to be okay. JJ buried her face in her hand. Her breathing was quick as she tried her best to keep the tears from falling. Emily kept an arm around her, rubbing her back in slow, circular motion, whispering to her that it would be alright. But each time she said it, she could feel her voice losing the conviction that it usual has. Hotch stood by the emergency door with Rossi, his face was stone cold as usual but his eyes couldn't betray the fear that he had while Rossi kept his gaze fixed on a spot in the ceiling.

Strangest of all was that he could hear their thoughts:

_I should've been with him._ That was Morgan

_I should've stopped him from going into that cabin alone_. That was Hotch

_Spence, please be okay_. He heard JJ begged

_He has to be okay_. Emily told herself

_He could even hear Garcia: What are we supposed to do if he doesn't survive?_

Rossi was struggling to stay on the positive: _He's already lost too much blood...No...he'll be okay_.

Finally, the tossing stopped. The doctor had quit. They had lost.

"Let's call it in," he heard the doctor said quietly to one of the nurse

"Time of death," the nurse uttered glancing up at the ceiling clock, "7:00 PM"

He marched outside of the surgery room, down the hall and exited the emergency wing where the five profilers were situated. As soon as he exited, they all stood and gathered around him. They couldn't help but feel a tiny bit of hope in their heart as they saw the doctor emerging from his cave. But whatever shred of hope they had was replaced by despair and disbelief when they saw the doctor's grim expression. A shake of the head from the doctor confirmed it all.

"I'm sorry." He said simply, "We tried everything we could"

Dark clouds were gathering over Reid's head, but Reid didn't noticed. He pressed an arm to the mirror in the park, watching as his friends fell apart in front of one another.

Morgan dropped his cell phone in shock. He picked up one of the plastic chair and violently threw it across the room. JJ was no longer able to suppress her tears; she collapsed on the ground and cried uncontrollably Emily sat down beside her, and soon, her tears began to trickle down her cheek. Hotch and Rossi looked at one another, the pain all too evident in their eyes. The only thing keeping them from breaking down like the others did was the years of experience with this type of pain.

Reid was in shocked. He couldn't even deny it now. He was dead. He was gone. He was nothing but a corpse now. He wanted to cry but for some reason, he couldn't.

It started to rain. Reid looked up at the sky to see fat rain droplets falling from the sky. He looked back at the mirror, each time JJ or Emily cried, it felt like their tears were penetrating the barriers between Reid and his friends and splashing down on his face.


	2. Chapter 2

Before I start: I am really sorry it took me so long to post this update! The truth is I posted the first chapter dangerously close to exam time. I thought that after posting up the first chapter, I'll write bits and pieces of the next chapter here and there and hopefully, I'll post a chapter maybe every 2 weeks or so. Apparently, it didn't work that way and even now, after my exams have ended and the summer semester has started, it's taking me a really, really long time to type up a chapter. I realized now that writing is harder than I first thought. No matter, I promise I will try my best to update sooner than I did :P

Also, thank you for my reviews and to all those who added me to their favourite/alert list. You deserve nothing but the best and I will try my best to deliver it

Disclaimer: I don't own this show, the characters associated with this show. I based the idea of The Lovely Bones

**Eternal**

Chapter 2 – Memories

So, if he was really dead, then was he in heaven or was he somewhere else?

Reid examined his surroundings. Thanks to his unquenchable thirst for knowledge, Reid had spent the majority of his life reading and studying. His childhood was devoid of any real friends, only the few odd companions that he would play with from time to time. Instead, he filled his days after school and on weekends making lists of everything he wanted to know about, then he would set off to find out the truth, the answers to every questions he had. Over the past 28 years of his life, he has accumulated vast knowledge on a variety of subjects, including death. But he doesn't remember reading about anything like this regarding life after death

He stood up and began walking. This was it? This was the afterlife? The FBI building where he worked and the park he used to go to as a kid?

As he walked, his minds lulled over all the stories he had read about the afterlife: heaven, hell, rebirths...there were so many.

The Christians believed that the saved would suffer purification after death by purgatorial flames. He didn't see any fire

Hinduism and Buddhism spoke of reincarnation. How the body was nothing but a shell that the soul takes on temporarily. Death was nothing more than an act of shedding, like changing your cloths. Well, he doubt that he was in a new body now

The Ancient Greeks believed that the soul was to travel down the river Styx ferried across by Charon in order to reach the underworld. He didn't see any river or any disgruntled ferryman.

He could see the exact text that he had read the stories from; they were dancing in front of his head, taunting him. Everything that he knew, all the knowledge he had accumulated: in the end, it didn't even matter. Nothing he knew would help him now

He came to sudden halt when the realization dawned on him. _Nothing he knew would help him now_. For as long as Reid could remember, his entire life was built on books and learning. Every time he encountered any sort of crisis or dilemma, he could always count on what he knew to get him out of trouble. He remembered the first time he joined the BAU, he was intimidated by how physically fit everyone around him was. Meanwhile, he was just a skinny, tall kid who couldn't even aim a gun right. But once he could solve a problem using some trivia that no one else in the room knew, he could feel how powerful he was. How much he deserved to be in the room with everyone else.

And now, he was completely lost. He hated not having any direction. He could feel himself panicking, his breathing was quickening with every step he took.

_I can't be dead_, he thought to himself, _this was just some awful dream and I'll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine_

_I have to get out of here. How do I get out of here?_ He sped up. He ran left and right, but all he saw was a field of grass. Before he knew it, he had wandered back to where he was before: the gazebo, the park bench, and the mirror to the living world

Reid collapsed on the ground in front of the mirror. His friends were still in the hospital comforting one another. The more he watched them, the heavier his heart felt. _He had abandoned them_. He began pounding on the mirror, thinking that if he could break the mirror he would be able to return to where his team was. He stayed on the ground for a long time, hitting the mirror with all the strength he could find in his body. But the mirror never faltered, the surface remained unflawed.

Eventually Reid stopped. He buried his head in his hands as he took in deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn't deny it anymore. He was dead

Out of the silence, an unknown voice cut through the air, "I know how you feel"

Reid looked up. He glanced around the park but couldn't see anyone.

"Look behind you"

Reid turned around. There, standing by the gazebo, was a young girl. She couldn't be any more then fifteen years old. Her hair fell gracefully down to her shoulder, framing her round face. She held an opened umbrella, which shielded her from the relentless rain.

Reid looked at her with confusion but stayed rooted to where he was, not sure if he should approach her or not. The girl advanced towards him with slow, sure strides and stopped right in front of him. She knelt down and moved the umbrella closer to him, shielding both of them under it.

"It's okay to feel that way," she assured him, "It's a big adjustment that you'll have to make"

Reid's eyes were locked on hers. He opened his mouth and attempted to reply but couldn't find the right thing to say. "Who are you?" he finally asked her

"My name is Naomi. But you can just call me Nomi. It's what everyone used to call me before I...well... I'm sure you know"

Reid nodded. He remained silent for a moment before venturing forth with a question of his own "Is this heaven or hell?"

Nomi hesitated before answering, "Neither, actually. This place is more like an in-between"

"In-between where?"

"In between where we once were and where we should have gone"

Reid looked at her in confusion, "Why are we here then? Why couldn't we just skip this place and go straight to where we should go?"

"That's because you and I, we're still connected to the living by an unfinished business. We can't leave here until the issue is resolved"

"What kind of unfinished business?" Reid demanded impatiently

Nomi shrugged, "I can't tell you that. You'll have to figure that out yourself"

Reid thought hard, "But there were so many things I needed to do"

"Think about the moments leading up to your death," Nomi offered, "That's usually a good starting place"

"Leading up to my death?"

Nomi nodded, "close your eyes and think hard"

Reid complied. But he realized that he couldn't remember much. His memory was jumping back and forth from one event to another. The details were unclear: Perhaps he was killed in a cabin...or maybe a small house. His killer was young...but old somehow.

"Why can't I remember?" He asked Nomi in frustration. He opened his eyes once again but found that Nomi had disappeared.

"Hello?" he called out. His cries were met with only silence. He got up from his spot and was about to look for her when he caught sight of the mirror. The colours were swirling once again. It was hypnotizing. Before he knew it, he had once again taken a seat on the park bench staring intently into the mirror. The colours arranged itself and the image sharpened once again. This time, he was looking at a view of some city. The uneven duet of old historic buildings and modern skyscraper should elude the identity of the city but for some reason, Reid instinctively knew:

_Philadelphia_

What was the case again? He wondered

Then he remembered. It was the policemen that were the victims this time. They were being lured to abandoned buildings all over the city by minor 911 calls. Instead of finding evidence of domestic violence or other small crimes, they would find themselves staring into the barrel of a revolver instead.

His fragmented memories were slowly coming together again. He closed his eyes and recalled the events of that nightmarish day. It was a rainy Tuesday in Philadelphia. His team was racing over to the airport to track down an alleged unsub that they believe was fleeing the city. Reid was left behind. He had chosen to stay because his mind was mulling over what had happened the day before when Rossi and he were assigned to interrogate a suspect.

Reid remembered his last name was Hamels. That was about all he could recall about that man. He didn't remember what his first name was, how he looked like, how he behaved, or why they decided to look for him. But what Reid did remember was that he was renting his basement to a man that Rossi and Reid decided to interview

His name was Chris Marlow. He was old: in his late 50s or so. He was pleasant and confident while answering the questions the two agents had for him. He acted like he had nothing to hide, offering what little details he knew of Hamels to the agents. But their interview was cut short by a phone call from Hotch who informed them that Garcia had found a lead and they needed to head back to the station right away

The rest of the detail of the case seemed unclear to Reid, even redundant. All he knew was that the next day at around five in the afternoon, Garcia told them that Hamels had purchased a one-way airplane ticket to Canada. Panicked grip the team, all the evidence they had pointed them towards Hamels, and they couldn't let him escape. So off they went to the airport, leaving Reid alone at the station. After half an hour of thinking, he decided to pay a visit to cabin the unsub had performed his first kill.

The sequence of events that followed from that moment felt like the final scenes of a Hollywood tragedy

He called Hotch to tell him where he was heading. Hotch was confused about the reasons but because he was so preoccupied about their current mission, he let Reid off without a second thought. He had no idea it was to be his last phone call to Reid, the last time he'll ever hear him talk again

He drove there on a borrowed car from the police station; there being a small cabin-like storage facility just outside the city. He didn't remember why he drove there. He guessed it was an instinct that overwhelmed all his senses at the time. He remembered stepping over the yellow police lines when approaching the building. He could still feel the metallic texture of the doorknob as he struggled to push the cabin door open. He had expected the cabin to be empty, but instead, there was a man bending over something in the middle of the room. The poor lighting wasn't helping Reid but his curiosity compelled him to advance into the cabin

The mystery person looked up when he saw Reid coming. At that moment, the setting sun happened to cast a fleeting ray across the man's face, exposing half his face to Reid's sight while the other half remained hidden in the shadow. The familiarity of his feature stopped Reid in his track. He couldn't place his finger on where he had seen him before, but his presence was somehow sending chills up his spine.

"You shouldn't be here," the man hissed. He lifted his hand to reveal a gun. Reid froze. His first instinct was to reach for his gun secured in its holster but he was too late. He heard a bang, and then felt a burning sensation as the bullet hacked its way through Reid's soft flesh. The room began to spin and the next thing he knew, he could feel the cold, hard floor slamming into his head. The mystery man advanced towards him and bent his head down to stare at his kill. At that angle, Reid could now see every detail of his face, from the colour of his eyes down to every contour of his pale face. He brought his hand towards Reid's shirt and pulled a button from it before staring into Reid's eyes and smirked, "Should've stuck with your team and went after Hamels, Dr. Reid. Now, they'll never find you. At least not in time"

It was the last thing Reid heard before he died. The killer's voice was still ringing in Reid's ear as he re-opened his eyes and stared into the mirror. The image has changed. This time, Reid was staring at the killer. _His killer_:It was Chris Marlow, the man from Hamels' basement. The unsub wasn't Hamels, it was Chris Marlow. And Chris had killed him. Marlow was flipping through a small black book with a list of name. He paused at the very end where there was a few blank spaces awaiting its next entry. He took out a pen and wrote: _Thomas Hamels_. Here, he put down the pen and paused for a moment, absorbed in his thoughts. After a few minutes, he took his pen back up. There was only a small empty spot left at the bottom of his book, he took a deep breath before putting down the final name: _Spencer Reid_

Reid's blood started to boil. He got up from the spot and ran towards the FBI building. He couldn't stand to look at Marlow for one more second. He burst through the door and stormed up the flight of stairs leading to the BAU's floor. All the while, he could see Marlow's face in front of him and could hear his taunting remarks. He was angry that Marlow was still alive, and he was angry that he was now another name is his sick notebook. He wanted Marlow dead. He wanted Marlow to burn in whatever hell is waiting for him.

Once he arrived at his desk. He buried his head in his hand and tried to clear his thoughts. Marlow's voice was ebbing away now, this time replaced by a clearer, much gentler tone.

_Unfinished business_

Reid withdrew his hands from his face. It was then that he noticed a brown folder sitting on his desk with the elaborate FBI logo decorating the front cover. He picked it up and opened it. He felt his heart sank when he saw the first picture in the file. It was a picture of him, bleeding and dying at the scene of the crime. He quickly flipped over it to find detailed crime scene records. He leafed through it, scanning it using his lightning-fast reading skill. The last page of the file wasn't a report or any crime scene photo. Instead, it was a picture of Chris Marlow. Strangely, he wasn't feeling angry anymore as he studied Marlow's feature. He now felt motivated as he realized what this picture could personified: His unfinished business

He couldn't rest until Chris Marlow gets his just desserts.

He was an FBI profiler when he was alive, fighting to catch sick bastards just like Chris Marlow. Now he understand, he will be an FBI profiler until the very end


End file.
